


shelter here (in my care)

by BloodRaven55



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I REGRET NOTHING, One Shot, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, literally just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 06:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19941823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodRaven55/pseuds/BloodRaven55
Summary: “My hero,” her wife says, melodramatic but still soft with sincerity, and Blake can't help smiling, because she never could have imagined that she would be this happy to be standing in her living room carrying another person at half past two in the morning.





	shelter here (in my care)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some cute married Bees to feed my heart and soul XD
> 
> Enjoy!

Yang's met with the familiar sight of the ceiling of their bedroom when she opens her eyes, and she waits until her vision has adjusted a little to the gloom before sitting up to look around. At first she's not sure why she's awake, but then she realises. The other side of the bed is still cold and empty, and she must have missed her wife's presence even while she was dead to the world.

Before Yang finally headed to bed at around one Blake promised she would follow soon, but as is not uncommon her wife has probably lost track of time. She climbs out of bed, padding out onto the landing and making her way carefully down the stairs towards Blake's office. The door is ajar, light filtering through the gap into the hallway, and no sooner has Yang pushed it open as quietly as she can manage than she freezes at the sight that greets her.

Blake has slumped forward over her desk, her head resting in the crook of her arms, and Yang doesn't need to check to know she's asleep. Her wife never tends to make any noise when she sleeps, except for the occasional quiet murmur or whimper if she's having a nightmare, but her ears will twitch far more than they do while she's awake, reacting to whatever's happening in her unconscious mind.

Yang crosses the room to the desk, pauses to brush a curl of hair out of Blake's face—gently enough so as not to wake her—and then she bends down, hooking one arm behind her wife's knees and looping the other around her shoulders. She lifts Blake as slowly and cautiously as possible, taking immense care not to bump into anything or risk disturbing her wife's much needed rest, and she feels her heart soar when Blake nuzzles into her with a sleepy noise of contentment.

Blake’s habit of pushing herself too hard is mostly gone by now, slowly vanishing as she’s learnt to treat herself more kindly, but there are still rare occasions when she overestimates how much she can take on herself. Part of Yang finds it endearing, a sign of how determined Blake is to make her lifelong dream a success, but she also always makes sure to try and help Blake remember to take a break once in a while as well when necessary.

She carries her wife up the stairs, taking her time and being careful not to bump into anything. The weight of trust in being allowed to hold someone while they’re asleep is immeasurable, and she doesn’t take it lightly. With the summer heat Blake already stripped down to a t-shirt and shorts after getting home, so Yang doesn’t bother waking her up so she can change, instead just moving the covers out of the way and settling into bed again, this time with the infinite improvement of having Blake in her arms.

She tries to leave a few inches between them to help with the cloying heat, but Blake’s grip on her tightens, pulling Yang in until her head is tucked under Blake’s chin. Yang holds back a laugh, resolved to let Blake sleep peacefully, but she can’t suppress the smile that spreads across her face. Blake always gets more clingy when she’s sleepy, and Yang always finds it adorable, even if it’s not the ideal temperature for cuddling.

Closing her eyes, she shifts ever so slightly to get more comfortable, nuzzling into Blake’s neck and feeling herself start to drift towards sleep once more. When she was younger she never thought she’d get to have this life—friends, a home, an eternity with the woman she loves more than anything—because she never thought anyone would want to stay long enough to become permanent. But she couldn’t have been more wrong, and she’s so, so glad of it.

* * *

Blake’s woken by the sound of the front door closing, the noise still clearly audible to her sensitive hearing even though she can tell her wife is making every effort to be quiet. She glances at the clock and finds that it reads two in the morning, stifling a yawn as she sits up in bed. Working for herself means Yang doesn’t have set hours, but she’s never normally working this late, and if Blake’s totally honest she missed her wife’s presence next to her when she went to sleep earlier.

Several minutes pass and the bedroom door remains stubbornly shut, so Blake forces herself out from under the warm covers and onto the landing. She heads downstairs, the light she can see is on in the living room telling her where Yang is, and she steps through the open door to find her wife sprawled face down on the sofa. The sight tugs at her heart, and she walks over to stand next to her.

She rubs a gentle circle into Yang's back, and a muffled groan is the only sign of life she receives. She's not surprised, though. Yang is never the most communicative when she's exhausted. She spends another minute slowly working the tension out of her wife's shoulder blades, and then she combs her fingers softly through Yang's hair, feeling her wife relax at the familiar, comforting gesture.

“Long day, huh?” she asks, and Yang lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah,” she says, turning her head slightly so her words aren't swallowed by the cushion. “Dude came in at four with a busted prosthetic. Didn't want him to have to wait till tomorrow to have it working again. Sorry I'm so late, baby.”

“You don't have to apologise, Yang. I love how important your work is to you. Besides, I don't really have room to talk there.”

The comment draws a weak laugh from her wife, and she feels a touch of pride at having successfully lightened the mood.

“I'm never moving again,” Yang mumbles, and Blake affectionately rolls her eyes.

“You'll be much more comfortable in the bed, you know?”

“Yeah, but... too much effort.”

How drained Yang sounds evokes a pang of sympathy that settles in Blake's chest, and she makes her decision in an instant.

“Well then, I guess there's nothing else for it.”

She's picked Yang up before her wife can object, and Yang's eyes widen as she finds herself in a bridal carry. Blake schools her features into the most innocent expression she can manage, and Yang looks up at her with a gaze full of pure adoration.

“My hero,” her wife says, melodramatic but still soft with sincerity, and Blake can't help smiling, because she never could have imagined that she would be this happy to be standing in her living room carrying another person at half past two in the morning.

Yang grins and curls into her, clearly enjoying being pampered this way, and Blake makes her way back up the stairs, taking her time to avoid any collisions. When they reach the bed she lets Yang down carefully before reclaiming her usual position next to her. The winter air makes it too cold to sleep on top of the covers, though, so she pulls them down for Yang to climb underneath them.

Her wife's naturally abundant body heat from her Semblance makes her the perfect snuggling companion during this kind of weather, and Blake moulds herself to her side, soaking up the warmth and the feeling of Yang's arm wrapping around her waist to hold her close.

Her wife buries her nose in her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, and Blake hears Yang's breathing slow as she drifts off. When she was younger she never thought she’d get to have this life—friends, a home, an eternity with the woman she loves more than anything—because she never thought she would be able to stay long enough to become permanent. But she couldn’t have been more wrong, and she’s so, so glad of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was wholesome enough!
> 
> As always any comments except for non-constructive criticism are not just welcomed but hugely appreciated and I'll see y'all next time <3


End file.
